Thompson
by Megan Hermione Lovegood
Summary: When a teen with amnesia shows up on the doorstep of 31 Spooner Street, claiming to know Meg, she ends up dropping a bombshell that could change Meg's life forever. It's time to say goodbye to Meg Griffin, black sheep and punching bag. Say hello to Megan Thompson! Rated M because I swear a lot, also for violence in later chapters.
1. Chapter 1

_Hey._

_My name's Brian, Brian Griffin. The first thing you'll notice about me is probably that I'm a talking dog. No one seems to find that weird, but whatever. I prefer it that way. Besides, I'm far from the only weirdo in Quahog. There's this one guy who's made almost completely of wood - but that's a story for another day._

_So, yeah. I live with the Griffins, a family that are so dysfunctional that they rival The Simpsons, but I'm not supposed to say stuff like that - last time, I was killed off and replaced with an Italian Stereotype. It's not fun, let me tell you that._

_But anyway, back to the family. _

_Peter Griffin is a fat, drunken, retarded idiot who doesn't care about anyone but himself. He used to be my best friend, but now we hardly ever talk. _

_I used to be in love with Peter's wife, Lois, but then she started to become a slutty and downright horrible bitch, and my feelings rapidly dissipated. Now, I can barely stand to be in the same room as her._

_Meg? Well, I care about Meg. She's whiny, like all teenage girls, but she actually has a reason to be whiny. Everyone hates her, no joke. Her own father abuses her, both physically and mentally. Her mother treats her like crap on the sole of her shoe. Her brothers act like she doesn't exist, and she has no real friends. She once killed a bully because of her apparent "grossness", but that's bull. Meg's not ugly at all - far from it, in fact. But even so, we don't hang out very often, so I know quite little about her._

_Chris is a jerk. He really is a huge jerk. Whenever I open my mouth around him, he yells at me and belittles me. Seriously, one of these days I'm going to punch him right in his fat mouth._

_Stewart Gilligan Griffin used to be an annoying little twerp. He still is an annoying little twerp, but at least we don't hate each other anymore - actually, we're best friends now. He's a way better friend than Peter ever was, I'll tell you that._

_My life sounds relatively good, right? _

_WRONG._

_Why, you ask?_

_Well, maybe it's the fact that someone who I once considered a close friend started to randomly despise me for absolutely no reason._

_Maybe it's because I can't get a job._

_Maybe it's because I'm not treated with any of the respect I feel I deserve._

_Maybe it's because I can't hold down a girlfriend._

_Or maybe it's because that I'm kind of a douchebag._

_I don't know myself, honestly. All I know is that I kind of suck._

_Ah, why am I even bothering with this stupid journal? Stewie's right, I can't write to save my life. Screw this. I'm going to the Clam._

* * *

Brian came back from the Drunken Clam three hours later. For once, he was completely sober. He had simply sat at the bar by himself, not ordering a single drink for himself. He had wanted to go home, but really didn't want to talk to anybody, so he had simply stayed where he was until closing time.

There was a storm going on outside, and in the short time it had taken Brian to run from his car to the door, he had gotten soaked through. Shaking his wet fur out of his eyes, he flopped down on the couch and, despite the noise of thunder and lightning, fell fast asleep.

He woke with a start an hour later, when a particularly loud clap of thunder sounded. Cursing, he got to his feet and went over to the window to see how bad it was, but because it was so dark outside, he couldn't see anything but his own shivering reflection. He sighed and went over to the door, flinging it open.

The storm was worse than ever. Rain bucketed down from the sky, and thunder boomed so loud you could barely hear yourself think. It was a miracle, Brian thought, that anybody could sleep in this weather.

He was about to close the door, when he looked down at the ground and saw that there was a teenage girl asleep on the porch.

Brian blinked, then cleared his throat loudly to try and wake her. She didn't react at all. Brian poked her rather hard with his foot, but she still stayed curled up under the trench coat she had used as a kind of umbrella. Brian finally came to the conclusion that she was unconscious, not asleep. Sighing, he knelt down and picked her up in his arms, carrying her over to the couch.

She still didn't wake up, even when he put her down onto the couch rather heavily, so he went into the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water. He then went back into the living room and poured it over the girl's head.

"Wha - what?!" she gasped, sitting up rapidly. She felt her head gingerly and winced.

"Where am I?" she asked. She spoke with a slightly Ukrainian accent. She had short and spiky brown hair, brown eyes and small rectangular glasses.

"I found you on the doorstep," Brian explained to her. "You were unconscious. Who are you?"

The girl's brow furrowed, looking as if she was deep in thought. Finally she said, "I . . . I don't know."

Brian then noticed she was shivering, and took the soaking trench coat away from her, replacing it with a blanket.

"Here," he said. "You can nap on the couch tonight. We'll try to figure something out for you tomorrow."

The girl grinned at him gratefully. "Thanks," she said. "What's your name?"

"Brian," he replied. "Brian Griffin."

The girl's eyes then widened. "Brian Griffin?" she repeated. "Do you happen to be related to Meg Griffin?"

"Well, yeah," said Brian. "I mean, she's my owner's daughter. Why?"

"Oh, nothing," said the girl. "I just . . . her name is about the one thing I remember, besides . . ."

She trailed off.

"Besides what?" Brian asked.

"Light," she replied. "A flash of white light . . . that was probably what wiped my memory!"

Brian nodded, even though he didn't really know what was going on. "You're probably right. Look, do you remember how you know Meg?"

The girl shook her head. "No. I only remember the name."

"Well, just try and go to sleep," said Brian. "We can deal with this in the morning. Goodnight."

"Night," she replied. "Thanks for letting me stay."

"Don't mention it," said Brian. He turned off the light and started upstairs. The girl pulled the blanket over herself and lay down, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the couch.

* * *

_OK, things got weirder. _

_I came home from the Clam, fell asleep, and when I woke up at about three in the morning, there was some teenage hobo on the doorstep. She says she knows Meg. Oh, and did I mention she has amnesia and is asleep on my couch?_

_Seriously. And I thought my life was weird before._


	2. Chapter 2

_Well, it's morning now. I'm the only one up right now; the kid that arrived last night is still sleeping like a baby. I just hope she's not sick._

_Anyway, I hope Peter and Lois don't freak when they find out I let a hobo into their house. Hopefully they'll understand. I mean, there was a freaking storm going on outside! What was I supposed to do, let her freeze?_

_Oh, she's waking up now. Gotta go!_

* * *

The girl opened her eyes, yawning and stretching.

"Good, you're up," said Brian, handing her a cup of coffee. He sat down in the armchair and began sipping his own coffee.

"How are you?" Brian asked.

"I'm OK," the girl replied. "My head kinda hurts, but I'm otherwise fine."

Lois then walked downstairs. "Morning, Brian," she said. "How are - OH MY GOD! WHO THE HELL IS THAT?!"

She pointed over at the girl, who had dropped her coffee in shock.

"Get out of my house, NOW!" Lois yelled. "I do not want a hobo in my living room!"

"Hey!" the girl said angrily. "I'm not a hobo, Lady! Besides, _he _invited me in."

She indicated Brian. Lois turned her rage upon him, and he gulped.

"Brian, what the Hell is _wrong _with you?!" Lois exploded. "You invited this homeless child to stay with us? She could be a psycho, or have AIDS, for all you know!"

"I'm still here, you know," the girl muttered.

"Lois, that's not fair!" said Brian. "There was a storm outside! She probably would've caught pneumonia and died!"

Lois turned to the girl. "Just who are you, young lady?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"She must have hit her head in the storm, or something," Brian explained. "Because she can't remember anything."

"That's not true," the girl interrupted. "I do remember one thing."

"Oh, really?" Lois asked mockingly. "And what's that, pray tell?"

The girl leaned forward, a slightly smug look on her face. "Well, two things, really," she said in the same mocking tone. "The first thing is the name Meg Griffin."

Lois now stopped looking mocking, and was now frowning.

"And the other thing?" Brian pressed on.

"My last name," the girl said.

"And what's that?" Lois asked, looking slightly queasy, as if dreading the answer.

The girl smirked again, and then said, "Thompson."

Lois's jaw dropped, and her face changed. Her skin immediately turned grey-white, the colour of sour milk, and her eyes turned hard and angry. She seized the girl's shoulders and shook her hard, hissing something under her breath.

_"Why the Hell are you here?" _she demanded. _"Did _he _send you? Did he send you to wreck my life? Huh? HUH?!"_

"Lois, _calm down!" _Brian yelled, pulling Lois away from the girl.

"You know what?" the girl asked. "It's all coming back to me now. You're Lois Pewterschmidt, right? I remembered you when Brian here said your name."

She turned to Brian and stuck out her hand for him to shake. "Angie Thompson," she said. "I remember myself now - I think the shock of seeing _her _again brought back some of my memory."

"Hey," Brian said, a little dazed, shaking her hand. "How do you two know each other?"

"Oh, she's my Dad's ex," she said. "Abandoned him a while after she became pregnant. Which, brings me back to why I'm here."

"And why is that?" Lois snapped, practically breathing fire.

"No reason. It's just that my dad's decided it's high time he met his daughter," said Angie. "And I kind of wanted to meet my little sister."

* * *

_OK, things got even crazier. Not only has the girl regained her memory, she's also turned out to be Angie Thompson._

_Or, Stan Thompson's daughter. And Meg's elder sister._

_You know what? This is too crazy for me to properly process right now. I'll write more later._


	3. Chapter 3

_OK, things have gotten pretty crazy around here._

_Lois is sobbing, Angie's sitting there looking uncomfortable, and I'm just sitting here with this stupid journal. I still don't really understand what's happening. How did Angie find us, and what exactly does Lois have against her? How did she lose her memory - _

_Wait a second. She said there was a flash of light, right before she blacked out and ended up on our porch. Her glasses are made of metal. She must have been struck by lightning! That's not very good - I hear your insides can literally be cooked if that happens. Well, Angie seems fine, even though she's still pretty hazy on a lot of things._

_Oh, Lois has just gone upstairs to get Meg. I wonder how she's going to react to this? Meg knows nothing about Stan Thompson, she still thinks that Peter's her father. I wonder if Peter himself even knows . . ._

_Meg and Lois are coming downstairs now. Gotta go!_

* * *

_"What?!" _Meg gasped.

"Look, Meg, I know this is a lot to process," said Lois, "But just calm down, sweetie - "

"I will _not _calm down!" Meg screamed, jumping to her feet. "You've been lying to me my whole life! Why should I listen to you?"

Needless to say, Meg had not taken the news well. Angie had broken it to her gently, but Meg had completely flipped out, and had started to berate Lois.

"Meg, please!" Lois exclaimed. "I know I lied, but it was for the best!"

"Oh, _for the best!" _Meg repeated mockingly. "You don't get to tell me what's _for the best, _Mom! You lied to Dad and you lied to me! How could you _do _that?"

"Shut _up, _Meg!" Lois yelled.

"No!" replied Meg. _"You _shut up, Mom! I'm sick of being treated like this! I'm sick of everyone ganging up on me, of them telling me to shut up and then _laughing, _as if it's funny! Well, Lois Griffin, I hate you! I HATE YOU!"

"Now, Meg!" Lois said, shocked. "You don't hate me. I'm your _mother."_

"So?" Meg asked, her voice trembling with anger. "I'm your daughter, and you hate me. Yet I can't hate you? You're an even bigger hypocrite than I thought."

"Meg, I don't hate you!' cried Lois, her voice breaking. "You're my little girl, and I love you!"

"Yeah, right!" Meg screamed. "If you apparently love me so much, then why do you put me down so much? Why do you make me feel bad about my appearance? Why do you cruelly and callously point out all my flaws just to humiliate me? Face it, _Lois, _you're a terrible parent! Even Stewie hates you!"

Lois took a look at Meg, seeing that she had truly meant these cruel words, and burst into tears. Meg looked at her in disgust, then turned to Angie.

"Angie," she said, "Can I stay with you and . . . Dad? I don't think I can live here any more."

"Of course, Meg," said Angie. "You're welcome to stay with us as long as you want."

"NO!" yelled Lois. "Meg, under no circumstances can you live with these people! Your home is here, in Quahog, and that's where you're going to stay!"

"Lois," said Brian, surprising everybody, as he had been silent up until then, "With all due respect, Meg's eighteen now. She can choose where she lives."

Lois glowered at him, then strode over to Angie and slapped her hard across the face.

"OW!" she yelled. "What the Hell is wrong with you? That really hurt!"

"You've wrecked my life!" Lois screamed; she now looked quite demented. "Don't you realise that this could break up my marriage? Don't you care that you're taking Meg away from the only home she's ever known?"

"You're mad!" exclaimed Angie, backing away from Lois. "Meg's coming out of her own decision! I'm not forcing her to do anything! And besides, you sound like a pretty terrible parent - but that doesn't surprise me. You treated me like crap when I was a kid, so why would your own kids be any different?"

"SHUT UP!" Lois hollered.

"Meg, go and get your stuff," Angie said to Meg. "We're leaving. I'll call a cab to take us home."

Meg ran upstairs and came down a minute or so later with a suitcase in either hand.

"Goodbye, _Mom," _she spat at Lois, before leaving the house.

Angie turned to follow her, but then turned around and faced Brian. "Brian," she said, "Thanks for not being a dick."

Brian smiled and waved, much to Lois's fury. "Any time," he said.

With that, the two Thompson girls got into the car, which then sped around the corner and out of site.

* * *

_Meg's gone. She went back to the Thompson house with Angie. Lois doesn't seem too happy about it, but she should have seen this coming. She knew that she couldn't lie to Meg her whole life; she'd find out some day._

_Lois is actually pretty mad at _me. _She won't speak to me, but that's not exactly a severe loss. I wonder how she's going to break the news to Peter. He probably won't be happy; Lois has been lying to him, too._

_Oh, here he is, home from the Clam. I'd better go._


	4. Chapter 4

_I can barely write now, I'm shaking so much._

_How could they DO this to me?_

_It wasn't even my fault!_

* * *

"H - hey guys!" Peter slurred drunkenly as he entered the house. "What's a happenin' with you? Hehehehehehehehe!"

"Peter," said Lois, bringing Peter over to the couch, "There's something I have to tell you. Meg - "

"Oh, blah blah blah!" said Peter. "If it's about Meg, I don't give a crap!"

"Oh, I think you will, Peter," said Brian. "Lois, just tell him."

Lois took a deep breath, then said, "Meg's not your daughter."

Peter, who had a beer can halfway to his lips, dropped it with a clunk.

"Wh - what?" he asked.

"Meg's not your daughter," Lois repeated. "I was pregnant with her when I met you. I told you that I was pregnant with your child, so that you'd take me in. I'm so sorry, Peter."

"Where is she?" Peter said, getting to his feet. "WHERE IS SHE?!" he repeated. "I want that little slut OUT of my house, NOW!"

"She's already gone," said Lois in a whisper, tears beginning to roll down her cheeks again. "Her half-sister Angie came here and took her to live with her real father."

"Lois, how could you lie to me like that?" Peter asked. "Is that the only reason we're together? So you'd have me to look after you and the kid?"

"No!" said Lois. "Peter, you know I love you! I was just scared! I couldn't raise a baby on my own! I needed help!"

"And why couldn't you have gotten help from Meg's real father?!" Peter demanded.

And so it all came out.

Lois had been planning on leaving Stan, as she no longer loved him, but then discovered that she was pregnant with his child. Panicking, she left in the night, and stayed at her parent's house before meeting Peter Griffin. They had started a relationship, and before long, they had had sex. Lois then cleverly devised a plan; she told Peter that her child was his; feeling guilty, he had married her and gotten a job to support her and the baby, and eight months later, "their" daughter Meg was born.

Peter shook his head when all this had been told. "Lois, I can't believe you," he said. "You lied to Meg, you lied to me and you lied to that guy Stan. I don't give a damn about the other two, of course, but still! Who knows what else you've lied about?"

"Peter, please!" Lois said tearfully. "I still love you, and I'm sorry! I haven't lied about . . . _much _else, I promise!"

Peter scowled at her, disgusted. "Forget it, Lois," he said. "I want a divorce."

And with that, Peter turned on his heel and slammed out of the house.

Lois turned to Brian, a furious expression on her face.

"Get. Out," she said to him.

"Wait, what?!" Brian demanded. "Why?"

"If you hadn't let that tramp Angie into our house, my marriage wouldn't have been ruined!" Lois screamed. "It's all your fault. Now get out!"

_"My _fault?!" repeated Brian. "Lois, I'm not the one who lied and cheated and pretended! You're the one who abandoned Stan, lied to Peter and let Meg grow up in an abusive environment! Maybe if she'd had a better life, she wouldn't have wanted to go with Angie, and Peter need never know! Did you think about _that?"_

Lois responded by hitting Brian hard across the face.

"GET OUT!" she hollered. "Get out, you stupid mutt! Never show your face here again!"

Brian ran for the door, yelping at the top of his lungs. He didn't stop running until he reached the end of Spooner street, in which he stopped and emptied his pockets.

A candy bar, four dollars fifty, and his journal and pen.

Sighing, he picked up the pen, opened the journal and began to write.

* * *

_I've been kicked out of the house, I have nowhere to go, and it's not even my fault._

_Let's see, where can I stay? Nowhere. I have no friends, apart from Peter and Stewie. Stewie still lives at home, so I can't go there, obviously, and Peter's staying with Quagmire, so I can't go there either._

_God, I'm in such a mess . . ._

_Wait a minute. Maybe I can stay with the Thompsons? I think Angie would let me, she seemed to like me._

_Now where do they live . . .?_


	5. Chapter 5

**A.N. I have a picture of Angie on my deviantART account, if anyone wants to see it. My account name is IAmMegan-HearMeRoar.**

* * *

_Well, I walked all over town looking for some sign of Meg and Angie, but I found nothing. I guess I'm homeless now._

_Also, a homeless man stole my cash, so I'm gonna have to look in this dumpster if I wanna eat tonight - _

_Oh shit, I think someone's coming! I gotta hide!_

* * *

Meg was silent as she surveyed Angie. The girl was hunched up in her seat, pressing her face to her knees. She looked rather tough; her tomboyish clothes, steel-capped boots, short hair and generally angry demeanor clearly read 'don't-mess-with-me'. She was rather . . . _intriguing, _Meg thought.

"Angie?" she said, poking Angie with her foot.

"What is it?" Angie asked, lifting her head. Meg was slightly amazed at the similarities between her and Angie; they had the same brown hair, oval-shaped brown eyes, same myopia, and the same triangular nose. Meg always thought that she had gotten her sandwich-shaped nose from Lois (though she never did understand why her own nose was so much smaller than Lois's), but since Angie's nose was the same, she assumed she had gotten it from her dad.

_Their _Dad.

"Meg?" Angie asked. Meg blushed, realising that she had yet to speak up. "Um . . . what's Dad like?" she asked, hoping Angie wouldn't notice her blush.

"Dad?" Angie said. "Well . . . he's great. He's funny and smart and he never treats me like a kid, but he's a little . . . wacky, shall we say. Like, he never really got over your Mom walking out on him. He hasn't had a girlfriend since."

Angie spat vehemently out the cab window out onto the street. Meg felt a little uneasy around Angie - her mean don't-mess-with-me demeanor was starting to get a little scary.

"Here," said Angie suddenly, holding out a picture. "That's Dad."

Meg took the picture from Angie and looked down at the face of her father. He was a tall and stocky Ukrainian man, with Meg's brown hair, medium-sized triangular nose and round Harry Potter glasses. He had his arm around a girl of around fifteen who looked like Angie, except with long hair and a lip piercing. She was looking up at her dad with an expression of clear adoration on her face. Meg blinked slightly, then looked at Angie, unable to believe that this long-haired, smiling stranger was actually the spiky-haired sullen girl who sat beside her, who looked like smiling, laughing and anything positive was a foreign concept to her.

_"What?" _Angie asked as she saw the expression on Meg's face. "So what if I used to look like a total dork? I'm not now, am I?"

"You didn't look like a dork," Meg said softly, but Angie wasn't listening. She knocked on the sheet of glass that separated the back seat from the taxi driver and said, "Hey, this is far enough. Pull over."

Meg grabbed her suitcases and heaved them out of the car while Angie payed the cab driver. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"You're ten bucks short," he said.

"Sorry," said Angie, "But that's all I have. Take it or leave it."

The taxi driver shook his head at her, but got back into his cab and drove off. Angie went back over to Meg, took a suitcase from her and started off down the street, Meg following her. After a few minutes, Meg was panting with exhaustion, dragging the heavy suitcase along the ground with both arms. Seeing this, Angie sighed and took the case from her.

"Do we have - " Meg gasped, clutching a stitch in her side, "Do we have to walk much farther?"

"Not that far," said Angie vaguely, "A few miles, maybe - "

"A _few miles?!" _Meg repeated. "Why didn't we just take the cab the whole way?"

"Because, _Megan," _Angie snapped, "I only had fifteen bucks! Did you _really _think that would be enough to get us to the other side of this freakin' monster-sized town?!"

"Well, _Angelica," _Meg retorted, "Maybe you should have thought this whole "Let's-Save-Meg" idea through a little bit!"

Angie looked like she was going to snap back, but instead, she sighed, and sank down beside a dumpster.

"Look, I'm sorry, OK?" she said. "I don't want us to fight."

Meg sighed, sitting down beside her.

"Me neither."

They sat their in silence for a moment, Angie drumming her fingers against her knees awkwardly. She then brought a packet of cigarettes out of her trench coat pocket.

"Do you mind if I have a smoke?" she asked. Meg shook her head, and Angie lit the cigarette, putting it between her lips.

Suddenly, there was a noise from the dumpster behind them.

"What the Hell was that?" Angie asked, throwing her cigarette down and stepping on it.

"Probably just a raccoon," said Meg.

And then, to their surprise, Brian stuck his head out from behind the dumpster.

"I am _not _a raccoon!" he yelled indignantly.

_"Brian?" _said Meg and Angie in unison. "What the Hell are you doing out here?" asked Meg.

"Lois kicked me out," said Brian, stepping out from behind the dumpster. "Peter dumped her, and apparently that's all my fault, because I didn't want a kid to die of hypothermia in the rain."

Angie took a step forward, rage flashing from behind her glasses. "She did _WHAT?!"_

"She kicked me out," said Brian, taking a few steps back nervously.

_"I hate her," _Angie hissed under her breath. Then, she threw her head back and screamed, "I FUCKING HATE THAT SLUTTY, MORONIC, SHIT-FACED WASTE OF HUMAN SKIN!"

With that, she turned to the wall of the store beside them and began punching and kicking it as hard as she could, her face screwed up in pain and rage.

"Angie, _STOP!" _Meg yelled as she and Brian grabbed Angie and pulled her, with difficulty, away from the wall.

Angie inhaled sharply, dragging a bleeding hand across her face, and then pulled a little bottle of pills out of her pocket.

"I forgot to take my meds," she said. "For my anger problems," she added. "If I don't take two a day, the slightest thing will make me go bat-shit insane and start punching the nearest object." She shook two pills out of the bottle and put them in her mouth, swallowing.

Then she said, "Anyway, Brian. If you need a place to stay, you can come live with us, if you want."

Brian grinned gratefully. "That would be nice," he said.

"But how are we gonna _get _there?" Meg asked.

"Oh, you'll see," said Angie.

She walked out beside the road and gestured for a car to pull over. When it did, she pointed to the man driving and screamed, "THIS MAN TOUCHED ME INAPPROPRIATELY!"

"What the f-" the man said, before a random cop yelled, "GRAB THAT SCUMBAG!", and a bunch of other random cops piled on top of him.

While the man was "distracted", Angie jumped into the driver's seat and drove over to Brian and Meg.

"Hop in!" she called, honking the horn twice.

Meg and Brian looked at each other, grinning, then got into the back seat just before Angie drove away.

* * *

_Yes! I found them! I FREAKING DID IT!_

_Well, more _they _did it, but whatever. At least I have a house now!_

_OK, I think we're almost hear - wait a second. Oh crap, this isn't good . . ._


	6. Chapter 6

_Well, I think I know why Angie's so messed up now._

_She lives in a freaking ghetto. And not just any ghetto, but that ghetto that's always getting on the news for all the murders that happen there._

_This is bad, this is very very bad . . ._

_Oh dear God. Angie has a son!_

* * *

The car pulled up into the driveway of a small, grey, bleak-looking house. There was graffiti covering almost every inch of the walls, and one of the windows was broken and boarded up. Meg flinched slightly as she heard a gunshot in the distance.

Angie glanced at the two of them, and her expression hardened.

"Look, I never pretended I lived in a freaking mansion, OK?" she said. "Let's just get in the house."

"But Angie, this place is dangerous!" said Meg. "Like, really freaking dangerous!"

Angie shrugged. "Hey, I've lived here for twenty years," she said. "And I'm still alive, aren't I?"

_"Angie!" _said Brian. "Five children were murdered here just last week! It's not safe!"

"Wait," said Angie, "Repeat that. I think I'm remembering something!"

"It's not safe?"

"Before that."

"Angie?"

"After that."

"Five children were murdered?"

"Yeah, that," said Angie. "Children, children . . ." She then looked up, an expression of shock on her face. "OH MY GOD!" she screamed, before jumping out of the car and running into the house.

Meg and Brian glanced at each other, wondering what Angie remembered to make her flip out like that. They got out of the car, Meg carrying her bags, and followed her.

"Angie?" Brian called out. "Angie, are you OK?"

And, to their surprise, Angie came into the room with a little boy in her arms.

"Who's _that?!" _Meg exclaimed.

"This is Harvey," said Angie softly. Meg noticed she was crying, tears dripping into the toddler's hair. "He's . . . he's my son."

"You have a _son?" _asked Brian, incredulous.

"Uh-huh," said Angie. "I - I can't believe I forgot about him until now!" she cried. "What kind of mother am I, if I remember everything except my _own son?"_

"Angie, it's fine," said Meg. "It's not your fault you got amnesia." She then squatted down to address the boy. "Hello, Harvey," she said kindly. "I'm your Aunt Meg. I'll be staying here for a little while."

"A - and I'm Brian," said Brian, stepping forward. "I'll be staying here too."

"Hello," said Harvey. "I'm Harvey, pleasure to make your acquaintance and whatnot. Mom, do we have any cookies?"

"He _talks?!"_ asked Meg.

"Pretty much every baby in Quahog can talk, Meg," said Brian. "For some reason, though, I seem to be the only one who can hear them . . . until now, of course."

Suddenly, there was a call from the next room.

"Angie?" called a man with a Ukrainian accent. "Is that you?"

It was Stan.

"Yes, Dad, it's me!" Angie called back. "And, well, there's someone here I want you to meet."

"Who is it?"

"Oh, you'll see."

They could hear a door opening down the hall, and footsteps coming towards them. Then, the man Meg had seen in the picture entered the room. Finally, after eighteen years, she was getting to meet her real father. Would he love her like a daughter, or would he simply neglect and abuse her, like Peter did?

Stan's jaw dropped when he saw her.

"Angie?" he asked. "Is that . . . Did you find . . ."

"Yes, Daddy," said Angie, and her face softened as she hugged her father, placing Harvey down by her feet. "I finally found Meg."

Meg could hear her earlier question repeating itself, louder and louder in her mind.

_Would he love her like a daughter, or would he simply neglect and abuse her, like Peter did?_

Stan answered this question when he crossed the small room in three strides and swept Meg up into a hug.

"Meg," he murmured into her ear, "I can't believe I'm finally getting to meet you."

Meg had never felt so happy.

* * *

_You know, I think I might have over-reacted earlier. I'm actually really enjoying myself here!_

_Stan's a great guy. He agreed to let me stay, and he even gave me my own room! No longer will I have to share with Peter and Lois, and have to sleep in the hall whenever they wanna hump! (Which is most of the time, unfortunately)_

_I don't think I've ever seen Meg happier. Stan, Angie and even Harvey accept her for who she is. I hope she'll be able to get over all the abuse she suffered from Peter and Lois Griffin. Assholes . . ._

_OK, I'm very tired now, so I better go to sleep. I'll write more in the morning!_


End file.
